One Hundred Reasons Potter Annoys Shepard
by Modify the Lifestream
Summary: Ah, Space! A lovely void, inhabited by various space faring, or not, species. Some are peaceful, some are warlike, some are genocidal, millennial old, space squid AI's. Enter Harry Potter, Wizard, MASTER OF DEATH. The Capitals are crucial, you know, tells us he's someone important. He seems to delight in causing headaches and irritation to his new friend, Commander Shepard(s).
1. Exam

_Just something funny I thought up while at work, it wouldn't leave me alone so I wrote out a quick chapter. Can also, possible, be considered a 'loose' prequel/ world builder to a Harry/Mass effect story I'm thinking about._

 _Also, **this** harry is basically the 'master of death', as in he can be killed, (maybe?) But can't really die of old age or disease, and he hasn't aged since his early twenties….._

 _So in the far flung future, where humanity is now flying across the stars in great starships, and interacting with aliens, alongside the great old adage of sleeping with anything female despite the species difference, (I'm talking about you, Kirk!) Harry's still around with his magic, causing problems for both friend and foe alike._

 _Also, if something is a little odd or out of place, these stories/snippets/ drabbles/ one-shots/ **whatever** you may be so inclined to call them, are more for my own amusement, and possibly yours, than being smack dab on cannon information._

 _So boo._

 _And enjoy._

When John Marcus Shepard first graduated from N7 training, the hardest, most dangerous, and extremely prestige's' of all the N-Type military programs in the Alliance, it was one of the proudest moments of his life.

He'd mastered all of the specializations required for the rank, and had completed both the physical and mental exams with one of the highest mental test scores, and the best physical exam time. He'd actually set a new record, beating out the last one by six minutes.

He later learned that Harry **dammed** Potter had also taken the training course on a whim, a **whim**!

He was curious about how such training, said to be so tough and extreme that only the greatest beings humanity had to offer could even be accepted to, let alone actually pass the course and tests….

Harry _shattered_ **both** his records.

He had with both a higher score in mentality,

(He discreetly lifted the answers out of the testers' minds.)

And beat out his physical course time by twenty minutes!

(…..There may have been slight use of apparition in the process, and the possibility of delicately painted, body enhancing runes under his armor).

Shepard was not amused.


	2. The Hangover

_And here we are with the ever fun, as Shepard herself would say, "I feel like the day after shore leave." Here's what happens when Shepard and crew go out partying, and drinking, alongside a wizard. Tell me what you think, yeah? Still deciding the possibility if I should write out the full snippets of what happed to each of them._

 _Ideas and reviews are welcome; tell me what you like, dislike, or what I could have done better. FYI, I'm being deliberately 'vague' with Shepard appearances besides gender, since the whole point of mass effect was to control 'your own' Shepard through the story. So visualize either the classic skins or your own in these little stories._

* * *

Shepard whimpered as she woke up, her head pounding, her eyeballs boiling in their sockets and her mouth and throat feeling like she had swallowed an ashtray…. She blinked blearily at what looked like her clock, although right now it looked like a Krogan had sat on it. She groaned to herself as she stretched, before moaning a bit in pleasure as she felt the bones in her neck realign, the kinks disappearing, before shuffling out of bed and making her way to her shower, before turning it too cold accidently, waking the hell up with a shriek as she was bombarded with ice water, hurriedly scrambling with clumsy hands for the handle to turn it hot. Making her way down to next floor, feeling just a little bit more human after her shower and dressing in a spare uniform, she couldn't help the small, raspy chuckle as the took in the various states of pain and tiredness of her teammates. A quick headcount had all of them here, so it looked like all of them had collapsed at the mess hall.

Grunt had his hands over his crest, seemingly trying to dig out his brain with his fingers at the rate he was messaging the bone plates, grumbling to himself before he worked a talon in his mouth. She blinked, before rubbing at her eyes; she must be way more tired than she thought.

Was he missing a few molars?

Jack had a busted lip and a black eye, and was blearily glaring at anyone around her, one hand covering her shoulder protectively, Shepard just able to make out the shape of what looked like a giant, pink, heart? With, was that green lettering in a lopping scrawl through it? She got a cheesy heart tattoo while drunk? She blinked a little, her mental computer still on the frits, before dismissing such a thought. Jack had enough tattoos that some of them were bound to be done because she was drunk. Although, she was a little curious at what was written in it.

Miranda was a mess, her usual impeccable looking hair frizzled out in every direction, and her typically ironed, pristine uniform crumpled, the top four buttons either mismatched or missing, and, she noticed, with more than a little bemusement that she wasn't wearing a bra underneath her torn suit-jacket.

God, last night must have been bad if little miss 'perfect woman' was in such a state.

Tali sat with her head in her hands, the barest of whimpers and curses whispering out from underneath her hooded mask, and the glow of her eyes seemed like dimmed, tiny little pinpricks, looking like she was squinting.

Mordin was only halfway in his chair, half laying on the table and his chair at the same time, and it seemed as if a child had taken black marker and draw, rather badly, at that, various shapes and squiggles all over his face. She recognized what looked like a monacle on his left eye, a human mustache and beard, over his face. She held up a hand to her mouth to stop her giggle from making its way out.

A lumberjack style epic beard.

Jacob blearily starred at the table, although half his face had swollen up with hand shaped bruises, looking like he had been slapped rather harder several times, the length and shape of the marks seeming rather familiar. He was also, rather pointedly, not looking at any of the woman in the room.

Thane was looking rather pale, his green skin looking more like faded green clay than emeralds. A bucket was in his lap as he hunched over, black eyes nearly red with bloodshot veins, his other arm around his stomach. He jerked a little, cheeks bulging, before settling down, hunching a little closer to his death gripped bucket. Shepard hurriedly looked away in case the next upheaval from his stomach, instead of being a false alarm, would include the image of him empty his guts.

She blinked dully at Kasumi, who was snoring on the table, a puddle of drool slowly growing from her open mouth, while her arms were lazily encircled around what looked like a pair of very expensive leather boots, dyed a shade of violet that looked familiar….were those Arias?! Various beads of cheap plastic, chains of polished metal, a set of very expensive pearls, and jewel encrusted necklace's hung like medals around her slim neck, while her arms and fingers were adored with gold, silver, titanium, and diamond rings, while her arms were nearly buried in cheap watches, expensive jeweled bangles, and diamond encrusted bracelets.

Garrus, her best's buddy in the whole wide world, erm, galaxy, who helped her take on galactic level , evil apocalypse machines, and then spent his time after she got spaced terrorizing the criminal underworld on the galaxies version of a Gotham city space station, had his head leaning on one of his talons, massaging the ridge of his brow and what was looking like a purpling bruise along his jaw, while drying blue blood trickled from a bent mandible.

Oh, and the entire, epic blue armor of a terrify Turian vigilante?

Had been dyed pink.

Hot , girly pink.

She couldn't help herself.

She laughed out loud, clutching her stomaching, before groaning in pain, squeezing it and her head as her belly heaved like it wanted to burst, and her headache intensified from the loud, stupid noises she had let escape in her laughter.

The rest of her crew, the awake one's anyway, glared at her in hate, several hands even starting to creep towards weapon handles. She cringed; smiling nervously as they slowly looked away from her, before noting someone she never thought would be down with here with her hoodlums.

Samara.

The Justicar.

You know, the evil slaying, vigilante space sorceress with a code of three thousand sutras that determine their actions in every situation?

Samara, to her shock was smiling, looked very laidback and relaxed as she all but oozed into her chair in the meal hall. Her black jacket was barely hanging on to her voluptuous frame, seeing as someone had torn it open, leaving the zipper destroyed and the leather ripped, her pants surviving in only slightly better condition, the zipper having survived by getting stuck on the last few bronze teeth. She didn't seem to be in any hurry to cover herself, her long legs crossing one another as she stretched out. Shepard assumed with her being an Asari and thus having little in the way of nudity taboos, as well as telling her she had little interest in relationships, she probably didn't care if the crew saw her in a state of undress. Her skin was flushed purple, from the tips of her crest, past her cheeks and down the valley of her breasts, while it looked like various small bruising dotted her neck and chest…

Were those _**hickeys**_?!

Her brain short-circuited.

Shaking her head in shock, Shepard turned her head to her last crew member, Mr. magical bullshit himself, and blinked. Harry was dressed impeccably, a clean black t-shirt and multi-pocked cargo pants in pristine condition, with his legs crossed and armored boots up on the table, whistling a haughty tune, a little loudly if she was honest, his arms crossed and a devious smile on his face. Shepard blinked, jaw hanging open for a few seconds, before her brain caught up with what it was seeing, and then glared, her face turning into a snarl.

The bastard wasn't in pain, or tired, or injured, or disheveled at all like the **rest of them**!

" _ **What the hell**_!? I drank you under the table, Harry!" she growled out, teeth bared like a rapid animal, before coughing, rubbing her painful throat, and feeling like she'd been swallowing razor blades all night.

"Really? Is that what you think? Actually, I drank all of you under the table last night, though once the ryncol came out, it was game over for everyone but us and Grunt from who was left, although you lasted the longest out of your crew Shepard!" he replied in a far, far to cheery tone.

' _He was supposed to be a pain filled, hungover mess like the rest of us, dammit!'_

"I even have video if you don't believe me!" her replied gleefully, a big grin like a child stretching across his face before he started waving around his left arm, his green Omni-tool activated, and Shepard took a second to hold her immediate response to cuss him out.

' _Smug little fucker…..'_

Shepard glared some more. "….Why the hell aren't you **at least** hungover and in pain like the rest of us?"

Harry simply smiled before getting up from his seat and walking away, with his cheerful whistling following him. "Remember guys, all of you owe me money for beating you!" He called out, loudly, ignoring everyone's cursing and death threats, which made the hungover bunch feel worse, before disappearing behind the elevator.

(What they weren't aware off was harry always brewed a hangover potion before going out to drink, as well as having discreetly ingested a sobriety reinforcing potion beforehand after he heard about the bet Shepard made with her team.)

Shepard, gritting her teeth and clenching her fists, was far too furious to notice Samaras blue eyes tracking harry as he left, her gaze straying much, much lower than his back. Her little smile tilted at the edge, turning into a minuscule smirk, a quick, furtive glance at the rest of her comrades confirming they were all too tired or in pain to notice much else of anything but their own suffering from the night before. She languidly got to her feet before quietly padding out after Potter, very interested in seeing just what kind of stars he could show her after last nights ravishment of her _azure_.

Perhaps, this time, instead of leaving her as a mind melted puddle of pleasurable goo in her quarters, with his mouth and fingers urging sparks and flames of pleasure from nerves she did realize she had, her convulsing body wrecked with aftershocks on her floor, she could get him to really _'embrace eternity'_. She had nearly five hundred years of skill too back herself up with in order to make the smug little human eat his words, having left her twitching, satisfied, drowsing body soaked in sweat and other fluids, with a smirk and a whispered challenge.

"'Perhaps next time you'll make _me_ scream, indeed!" She huffed to herself.

 _Unknown to everyone, they were missing a single crewmember. Zaeed Massani would wake up later, covered in refuse in the lower wards of the citadel, with little memory of the last 24 hours, stripped of his clothing and mechanical arm, abandoned by his shipmates._

 _Who would, in embarrassment after learning they had forgotten about him, hurriedly return to collect their nearly explosive teammate._


End file.
